


The Cave

by bellafeir



Series: FeirShots (dreamnotfound oneshots) [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Blood and Injury, Complete, Eventual Smut, Explosions, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Hugs, Late Night Writing, Lust, M/M, My First AO3 Post, NSFW, Oneshot, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Swords, Violence, actually good writing, hostage, smutshot with a plot, still dont really know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafeir/pseuds/bellafeir
Summary: Dream meets with Tommy and Techno, discovering that they have George hostage. After a large explosion, Dream takes George back to his cave to heal his injuries and tend to his wounds. After George is fully healed, things escalate amidst the echoing booms in the far off land.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: FeirShots (dreamnotfound oneshots) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082114
Comments: 12
Kudos: 359





	The Cave

The night is young, and the air is crisp. Fires blaze, ignored, and glowing in the distance. Ebony, leftover in the ash, crunches under Dream's boots as we walks the long-forgotten prime path to the place he knows _they_ await. The wood beneath him looks old, ignored. None of it seems to matter now; no one cares to restore it. Dream huffs in the chilly air. With his mask shielding his face, void of expression, and his hood and cloak like a dark blanket shadowing over his inescapable doom, he ignores the snowflakes that begin to fall with the ashy remnants of what used to be the world; what used to be _his_ world.

He forces himself not to think of what has happened or even what could _still_ happen. Blocking any and all emotion is his top priority. It's the only way to save what he has left. Did he make a mistake? Had he miscalculated? He couldn't figure out where it all went wrong. Every move he had made, every person he used, every side he took, was it now... all for nothing?

His steady pace falters as his boot scuffs against a discarded piece of iron armor. No one needs it here; the battle is far off.

A lone fox in the distance weaves in and out of the trees, watching him with plain, black eyes. He doesn't give it much of his attention, only noting that it's simply there and nothing more. As he continues along the remains of the path, he grew closer to it, hoping for a split second that maybe it won't run away. But it does; it runs. It runs far away, disappearing into the shadows just like everyone else in his life.

He can't be far now. He knows he's close.

The snow falls steadily now, beginning its practice of blanketing the awfully barren ground and sugaring the leaves of the tall, evergreen spruces that stand, towing over him, almost to signify that though they are still, they far wiser than he could ever be.

Dream's heart beats rapidly as he reaches the peak of the hill, entering the ruins of old cobblestone walls. He sees the 3 people immediately and takes in the scene before him. His stomach drops to the deepest depths of his stomach.

Technoblade.

Tommy.

George.

Each figure incorporates itself into his thoughts one by one. In escapable dread is stuck in his gut like a cow trapped in a well, slowly drowning in its own demise.

First, Techno. He's standing tall and expressionless, eyes slightly squinted, and royal red cloak flowing down over his shoulders, ends of the fur brushing the mix of upturned dirt and snow.

Dream walks further, cautious, and ready for anything.

Next, Tommy. He's matured since Dream has seen him. The ends of his hair are withered and burnt, and the face of a once goofy and overconfident child now stuck Dream as disconsolate and dignified.

"Don't come any closer," Techno calls out the order.

Even closer now, Dream ceases his approach, not because he chooses to abide by Techo's rules, but because he doesn't know what tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Lastly, George. His head is hung toward the ground, and he's on his knees before Techno, silent and unmoving. His hands are tied behind his back, tight enough to cut off his circulation, tight enough to numb him. His face is pale and drained, almost as if he's ashamed of himself.

_You have nothing to be ashamed of. None of this is your fault. It's mine—my fault._

Dreams thoughts cloud his mind before he can shake them away. He can't seem to pull his eyes away from George.

_I should have done more. I should have protected you. I thought that if I..._

_I'm sorry._

"Dream," Tommy speaks.

Dream doesn't know if it's a greeting or a confirmation.

"This, Dream, this is what it has come to. Take a look around; pitiful, isn't it? You're losing, and you know it. Everyone has left you. Do you really think you can win with the few friends you have left? Are they even your _friends_ , Dream? Do they even care enough to save you now?" Tommy's words are cruel but firm. He isn't the same angry sputtering teenager he had been before.

Techno stays silent.

So does Dream.

"You used me Dream. You made me think we were friends. You made me actually believe I was alone and that everyone forgot about me. Well, look now. Oh? What's happened? Look around you, Dream. What comes around goes around. You're alone," Tommy pauses.

"You feel it don't you. That dreadful feeling that you're stuck. That feeling you get when everything was a lie. When everything you expected... is simply wrong and everything you ever lived for is ripped out of your grasp."

Dream grits his teeth. He's letting a teenager talk like this to him?

He keeps his mouth shut.

"Do you like how it feels, Dream? You like the way everyone turned on you so fast. Did you like it when you found out their true intentions? Did you like how they beat you at your own game? Are you _proud?"_

"No," Dream doesn't mean to let that slip. His fists clench at his own carelessness.

"No? But that's exactly what you did to them, to everyone, Dream. You fucked with them, but you can't take it when they fuck with you?" Tommy's tone is bitter and disgusted.

Dream replies without a second thought, silent rage taking over, "You sound like Wil-"

"--DO NOT--" Tommy takes a breath. "Do _not_ compare me to Wilbur."

Dream wants to make another retort but looks away, holding back the urge.

"Dream, I thought that by taking your land, I could hurt you. I thought that by burning down your history, I could tarnish you. But I was so _blind_ , Dream," Tommy almost laughs in hysterics. "You don't care about that stuff, _do you_ , Dream." 

Tommy raises a finger, shaking it with his words, "I've realized one thing, Dream. There are a few things you truly hold close to your heart. The things I've done won't take you down. No, they won't make you crumble. I've now realized the only way to do that is to go after the thing you love the most. To diminish it. Only then will you understand the pain and suffering of the situation. You'll finally know what we had to go through."

Tommy turns to Techno, gives him a small nod, and then looks down at George.

Techno carefully unsheathes his short-bladed sword. 

"The irony of it all will hurt like a _knife_ , Dream." Tommy chuckles coldly.

Dream's eyes widen. He understands what's about to happen from Tommy's words before he can even have a second to react.

An ear-splitting shriek flies through George's lips as the end of Techno's sword pierces his shoulder. But instead of a sharp, quick jab, he slides ever so slowly in deeper. The cries that George wails are almost inhuman, and if it weren't for fear that it would cause only cause more harm to George, Dream would have run to him then and there.

Dream screams in absolute horror. His gaze is crazed and frantic, but he doesn't dare move, reaching for his bow in reflex.

Before he has any time to shoot, Techno abruptly pulls out his blade and places a single block of TNT at George's feet.

"Light it, and we leave," Tommy's expression is forced. He tries to hide the twinge of pain he feels for George.

Just like that, Techno pulls out a glowing purple crossbow and aims right at the red and white explosives, letting his arrow fly before both he and Tommy ender pearl far away.

There's an explosion as Dream lunges towards George like there's anything he can do. As if he can prevent it at all. He's thrown back mid-air and lands on his back, most likely injured but unknowingly so, because of his adrenaline. His bow's thrown out of his hand, ears ringing and his mask flys off his face, breaking when it hits the ground. His eyes burn, but he doesn't know it was from the blast or the outcome that may possibly be much... much worse.

As the dust clears, he sits up, groaning. He blinks and notices a figure through the smoke, frantically scurrying up and half running, half stumbling, to what he feared could be a limp, lifeless George.

"George, please," he hopes, he begs.

Once Dream gets to him, he reaches out a hand and rolls George onto his back. Dream's heart beats rapidly in his chest as he holds his fingers up to George's pulse, letting them sit there, watching, waiting.

Everything he ever wanted, everything stupid like his totem or gapples... he would give it all up to save George in this very moment. He would take it all back, he would have given up the disks, he would even have let Tommy get away with his act of treason. Dream would give his own life to save George's... because that's how much he loves him. That's all he knows.

Dream's fingers still wait, but his mind seems too distracted to catch a pulse either way. He notices the blood that's spilling from George's shoulder, the dark red substance like liquid life, slowly seeping out of his soul. 

George gasps, coughing up a bit of blood.

Relief. Sweet, sweet relief. Dream leans down, brings his head to George's, pressing their foreheads together. George looks at him, a pained smile forced onto his face. Dream cups George's face with both hands and rubs his thumbs on George's cheeks. George winces as he tries to sit up more but gives up on readjusting, letting Dream wrap one of his arms behind his back to help support him.

Tears spill out of Dream's eyes, happy that George is alive but terrified that he almost lost him. He's overtaken with his emotion as he leans in. Their lips barely touch before George speaks.

"I hate to-," George winces again. "-ruin the moment, but-," He lets out a muffled scream, and he tries to put his hand behind his back. "-but we need to leave, or I'm gonna bleed out. I need help Dream," George's words are soft and weak, and he cries out again as he's finally able to get his arm to straighten.

"Of course, of course," Dream whispers back, his voice shaky.

In one swift and "as-careful-as-possible" movement, Dream scooped George's frail body up into his arms. George cried out again but buried his head into Dream's cloak, trying not to worry Dream with his worsening screams. Tears began to flow from George's eyes while Dream's cleared.

Dream's new number one focus was to get George to his base. It was the only place he could heal him, the only place no one knew about.

\--

The snow falls hard, but Dream's arms do not tire. They're almost to the hidden entrance. It's the same idea as his old base, but bigger, cozier, and especially more secretive. Dream ducks behind a tree and holds George close, trying not to accidentally bump him into the dark oak wood. He pulls out a hoe struggling a big to momentarily balance George on a knee and still support him with his arm. He jabs a seemingly random part of the ground, but in doing so, he opens a hole on the side of a hill that seems to be an entrance to a tunnel.

"Fuck," Dream curses. "I usually crawl in, but you..."

George gives him a worried glance from his arms.

"...You can't crawl."

Dream sighs and squats to set George down on the soft grass, illuminated by the sweeping moonlight shining through the trees. George's eyes contact Dream's with a confused look.

Dream skips the explanation and stands back up to his full height, unlatching his cloak and laying it on the ground beside George. He runs his hands along the cloth, smoothing it out and dismissing every disruptive line in the fabric.

"Can you lay on this?" Dream speaks.

"Yeah, I can move a bit more now. I could probably stand too..."

"Just get on, and I'll pull you through."

George doesn't protest. He picks his body up and places himself onto the strewn out, sturdy-looking cloth, laying down and noticing how pretty the stars are. Then, through the trees, he notices the plume of smoke coming from the rest of the SMP in the distance.

Dream ties the end of his cloak around his ankle and gets down on his hands and knees, starting his mission down the tunnel. He moves both hands one after another and tugs George along with a pull to his left foot. George tries to hold in his noises, but the cloak's sharp pulls are causing an uncomfortable disruption to his back and shoulder. Dream does his best to make the pulls as smooth as possible, but he just wants to get George through and out of the tunnel so he can get him up and heal him.

When they finally make it to the end, Dream lets out a sigh of relief.

He unties the knot around his leg and rises to his feet. Turning around, he bends forward and holds out a hand for George, fulfilling his unspoken request of trying to stand on his own. George manages to stand with a tiny grunt, leaning against Dream for support.

"Here, use the wall; for now. I need to light some candles. It's too dark in here," Dream says and helps George let go of him and move to the smooth stone wall.

George patiently waits in the dark until the sound of striking a match rips through the room. After a few failed flicks, Dream finally gets the match to catch. George watches him light a large candle made of a metal and glass case hanging from the low part of the ceiling. Before the match goes out, he moves to the other side of the room and likes a tall, skinny, long candle, one that looks like it's used for lighting other candles. He uses it for just this and moves about the room, lighting three more lanterns smaller than the first; one on his desk, one by his bed, and one by the entrance they came from. Dream blows out the match and throws it away. Multitasking, he picks up his cloak from off of the ground and takes off his bow that had been hung over his shoulder and around his body. He throws them into a nearby chest and walks back over by the tunnel opening to do something. Dream presses a button on the wall, and abruptly, the entry hatch shuts, and they are left alone in the cave, companied only by the candles.

Whenever Dream had been hurt in the past, even when it was the simple days and nothing much was going on, George always helped him. Dream would have something as little as a scratch on his face, and George would coax him into sitting down and letting George fix him up. His gentle hands would clean and bandage the wound... and Dream would stay awhile, laughing and chatting with his best friend in the entire world. That's probably what made their relationship grow so strong over the years, the element of care and fondness blossoming between the two. Dream would always do the same, like when George cut his leg after he fell off the side of the Bastion trying to escape Sapnap; a play fight that had turned into a dangerous game of "tag! you're going to die." Even then, when George was whining and complaining, bothersome and bloody, Dream had still traveled to the location of his pitiful attempt at "blocking himself in" and taken him back to heal him up. It was what they did for each other, always.

This, though... this was on a whole other level. George had never needed what Dream was now preparing to make.

He picks some nether wart from the small patch growing by his brewing station with a smooth and swift hand movement. He checks the mechanism and makes sure there's still a charged blaze rod latched into the machine. Then, he picks up his cauldron and places it on the stove after adding wood and sparking a flame below.

George sits on Dream's bed, unmoving, silent. His adrenaline has kicked in, temporarily letting him ignore the pain of his injuries. His clothes are stained with blood, and more continued to seep slowly out of his shoulder. He tried to ignore the fact that he's dying.

"How much longer?" George asks tentatively.

"Too long," Dream says with a flicker of frustration. He moves away from what he's doing and reaches into a nearby barrel. He pulls out his hand, and with it comes a very small golden apple.

"Eat this," Dream insists. He doesn't need to explain why. They both know it isn't permanent, but it will help George until Dream can fully heal him. At least it will help George stand, help him function.

George takes the delicate fruit from Dream's palm and bites into it with haste. A bit of color immediately returns to George's once-somber complexion, and he smiles weakly at the boy in green.

With assistance from Dream, George stands, placing both hands on Dream's shoulders for support. He wobbles a bit but takes a soft intake of breath, relaxing his worried mind and looking into Dream's eyes.

"Got it?" Dream asks, not even trying to hide how much he cares anymore.

George nods and winces as he tries to stretch his shoulder.

"Here, lemme help," Dream reaches his arms to clutch the bottom of George's shirt gently. "You'll need bandages either way. A healing potion takes time."

George lifts his arms with a short cry and lets Dream carefully peel off the torn and bloody article, George's head popping out the bottom with another slight smile.

Time slows, and Dream smiles down at George, only making George's closed-lip smile wider. They can't help but dote in the comforting warmth of each other's presence, the essence of their beings. Time returns to normal.

Dream discards the shirt on the ground and returns to his cauldron, picking up some cloth from a chest and dipping it into the warming water. He also brings extra bandages, gauze, and a blanket back to the bed, returning to George.

"Spin," Dream says calmly.

George abides.

"How are you feeling?" Dream asks as he pressed the wet cloth on the back of George's neck. "Emotionally, I mean," he adds, clarifying his first sentence. He drags the rag down George's back, avoiding the actual wound in order to help him get used to the feeling.

"I'm... I'm good, I guess..." George sounds unsure.

Dream stays silent and proceeds to wipe away access blood, making sure that if George wants to add on, he had the silence to do so.

"I don't know how I feel, really..." George mumbles. "I'm glad I'm with you, though."

That all too familiar warming pours itself into Dream's chest. He pauses his cleaning of George's back and pulls lightly on his hip, pulling George back into his chest, so he's hugging him from behind.

"I'm glad you're with me too," Dream rests his chin on top of George's head, and although they can not see each other's expressions, they take comfort in knowing the other is smiling, which both of them are.

From Dream's view, the tips of the front of George's hair are illuminated from the candlelight, turning to almost a light amber brown and juristically contrasting with his normal strands' deep chocolate color. Dream loosens himself and tilts his head down to George's hair, taking in his faint scent. Surprisingly, it wasn't sweaty or wet, bloody or crisp, dirty or gross; It was soft, smelling like light vanilla and a tinge of sandalwood.

After what seemed like several minutes of holding their tranquil embrace, staring at the cave's wall, thinking about nothing in particular... Dream finally let go.

"I'm gonna clean the big one now," There was no other word to describe Dream's words but soft. George made him soft... and he didn't even mind.

With a steady hand, Dream carefully wipes over George's large stab wound. George cries out, and Dream grimaces, not wanting to hurt him but knowing that it can't heal correctly if he doesn't do this.

"Just a little more," Dream cleans the now less bloody sword cut more, hoping to alleviate George with not only his words but his movements in the long run.

"Okay, done," Dream sets the rag down.

George slowly turns to face him, a peaceful calm now radiating from his eyes.

"The water is probably ready now. I'm gonna start the potion."

George nods.

But Dream doesn't move. He doesn't want to. Instead, he takes a step closer to George, bringing their bodies closer, just like their souls. He feels George reach out with his hands and place them on either side of Dream's hip, pulling him even closer. Their noses brush, George looking up, and Dream staring down. They hover there for a moment before Dream dips his head down and connects their lips, placing a short, sweet kiss on the shorter's mouth before pulling away, cheeks rosy and face glowing with genuine happiness.

Dream, once again, finds himself at his brewing station. He makes sure his next moves are quick and efficient: First, fill the 3 empty bottles with hot water from the cauldron and place them into the stand. Then, place the glistening melon into the brewer and wait.

Dream taps his foot as the seconds go by, impatience making him just slightly irritated that the machine won't brew faster.

Finally, the healing potion is ready.

Clutching the fist bottle with his fist, Dream pulls it out and walks over to George, ignoring the others and leaving them for another time.

Dream holds out the potion and sits down on the bed next to George. George happily takes the glowing red potion from Dream and proceeds in bringing it to his lips, taking his first sip of the rejuvenating liquid.

"It may make you a bit..." Dream tries to find the right word.

"Drowsy?" George asks, truly curious, faulty to his own unknowing.

"Well, yes- I mean... _sort of..?_ But, you'll also have energy."

"Drowsy but energetic," George repeats. It doesn't really make any sense, but George shrugs, not even bothering to find out more. It won't matter; he has to take it either way.

Tipping it back, George downs the contents of the little glass bottle. He finishes it in seconds, gulping down every last drop.

Dream lightly chuckles and takes the empty container from George. He says it down on the ground, out of the way of their feet, slightly under the bed. He returns his attention back to George, still amused.

George turns so that his back is facing Dream and so that Dream has a good view of his sword wound.

"How does it look?" George sounds hopeful.

When Dream doesn't respond, he turns back around to read his expression, scared something may be wrong.

A grin is plastered on Dream's face. You can hear his grin when he speaks, "It's healed up quite nicely, George. It'll need time for your full body to heal, but the potion did what it was supposed to."

George lets out a sigh of relief, grinning, and matching Dream's energy. George giggles.

His laughter is contagious because soon, the two are quietly giggling to themselves, just happy to be here, with each other, alone and unbothered. Their laughter quiets down, and soon, both boys are left staring intently at each other's lips.

"Can I kiss you again?" George says quietly.

"I'd love that," Dream responds, leaning in closer, his cheeks flushed.

George reaches up and cups Dream's cheek, biting his lip and hesitating before closing the space between.

Both still sitting on the edge of the bed, the kiss begins soft, the feel of it identical to cool ocean waves lapping up on a distant shore, the flame burning between them like gentle fruit that must be cared for and sheltered from the rain. Both of them don't expect the intensity to which their kissing grows into. They don't realize how much they want each other until the short pecks and cradled limbs turn into groping, hushed whispers, and tongue.

Dream's hands reach out to wrap around George's hips and pull him onto his lap, George's legs falling to straddle Dream's torso, knees bent, and feet tucked next to the back of his thighs.

Placing both hands straight out behind him, Dream leans back, kissing George hands-free. George, on the other hand... his hands are much more unoccupied than Dream's.

Fingers tangled in Dream's golden brown locks and cheeks pink as can be, George lets Dream's tongue explore his mouth. He runs his hands down to Dream's shoulders and brings them down his sides, tugging on Dream's shirt when he finds its hem.

Understanding the unspoken request, Dream breaks their make-out to cross his arms over his front, pinching the fabric of his top and pulling it off. His arms bring it above and off his head, the shirt falling to the ground beside the bed.

_BOOM_

The walls of the cavern shudder with the noise of the explosion.

They both realize what they've been doing. They've never gone that far before... It was an unspoken thing between them. They both were stunned by how the other had reacted and how they hadn't stopped to even talk about what they were doing.

_BOOM_

"What the fuck was that," Dream swallows.

George groans and melts into Dream's chest, "Tommy's said he was gonna start blowing everything up to make room for the new nation. I didn't know he would start now..." He hides his face in Dream's neck as he speaks, knowing the rage his words will induce.

Dream fell silent.

George looks up at Dream, worried at what his expression may be. Sure enough, just as George predicted, Dream looks just under furious. He knows how much it angers him to know Tommy, of all people, can take him down and destroy what he loves.

_BOOM_

Dream looks at George with a bitter but a torn expression, the boom reminding him of the boom that flung George to his demise not too many hours ago. It makes him angry. It makes him hate himself.

George knows what Dream is thinking before he even says it out loud.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, everything is okay," George places a hand on Dream's cheek and looks him in the eyes. "I'm okay, and you're okay. That's what matters."

Dream's next words are timid, high pitched and his throat feels choked. His voice brakes as he speaks, "I can't believe I let them hurt you."

"It's _okay_ , Dream," George speaks directly to his heart, putting as much feeling as he can muster into his words.

"I thought if I acted as if I didn't care..." Dream looks out past George, his eyes focusing on something behind George's head that isn't there.

"Forget about it, Dream it's okay. You were doing what was best," George repeats himself and slides his arms over Dream's shoulders, bringing him into a tight embrace. George's small body latches onto his best friend, and Dream moves his arm to wrap around George as well, holding the boy's frame tightly to him.

"I swear to god I care about you so much," Dream murmurs into George's neck, hugging him tighter.

Golden sunlight seems to pour into George's diaphragm, making him feel gooey and soft. He repeats Dream's words in a daze and pulls away to look into Dream's eyes, "You do..." It isn't a question. It doesn't have a positive or negative connotation. Put plainly, he just echoes them.

"I do," Dream says, an almost relieved smile washing over his face. A soft outtake of air leaves his lips, and his eyes dilate, readjusting on George's features.

_BOOM_

"I never wanna lose you again."

George bites his lip. "Y'know..." He leans forward and brings their faces closer but looks down at Dream's chest to avoid eye contact, "...with everything that's happened..." He traces his fingers over Dream's collarbone, "...what if in the future..." He looks right up at Dream, eye contact locking. "What if something happens?"

Dream inhales, chest rising against George's, trying to wrap his head around George's words.

"What if this is the last time we're together, peaceful like this," George reiterates.

Dream can't respond. He truly doesn't know.

"I've never said this, I guess," George looks away again, "Dream, you make me happy..." The sheets splayed out next to them become _very_ interesting to George. "You make me... want things..." He dips his head to hide his blush, "...things I've never wanted... with anyone else-"

_BOOM_

George winces, "God, I hate those noises."

"Is there anything I can do... to make you feel better?" Dream speaks with a hushed voice. It feels dangerous. Not scary, but more like a rush. It's the same feeling you get on a rollercoaster. The moment right in-between sheer terror and pure excitement. It wasn't what Dream said, It was the way he said it... With so much compassion, so much emotion he wasn't putting upfront, Dream was miserably failing at hiding what he was feeling towards George in that very moment.

_Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?_

Dream's words repeated in George's head.

"I don't know, I just need a distraction..."

"A distraction..." Dream echos.

George swallows.

"I can distract you..." Dream's words slide off of his tongue the same way alcohol would.

Their noses and foreheads are pressed together, eyes half-lidded, breath heavy.

"You could," George agrees, pressing his hips tighter against Dream's.

"George, is this..?" Dream almost whispers. "I mean- you're hurt- I know I healed you, but..." His eyebrows knit together as he blurts his next question, breathy and panicked, "Is this inappropriate for the situation?"

All of George's worry melts away when the sentence leaves Dream's lips. He had been preparing for much worse.

Kissing Dream's cheek, George smiles and makes his way down Dream's neck, peppering his skin in kisses and nipping the lobe of his ear.

Dream's worry of taking advantage of George or not understanding the extent of their situation dissolves from his mind.

George takes a shaky breath and whispers.

" _Be_ my distraction, Dream."

Their lips unite together once more, and sparks fly almost as if they pour out their souls into one another.

Gripping George's hips, Dream grinds up against the brunette, letting a throaty groan slip out of his mouth. They resume kissing, and he does it again, feeling George moan against his lips.

Dream finds a steady rhythm, second after second, half-thrusting and half-grinding, desperately trying to get relief between the fabric of their bottoms. George's little pants were only making the space between Dream's legs tighter and tighter.

The space between them was reducing centimeter by centimeter, and with their shirts already off and on the floor, George's hands drift lower and lower until they find Dream's button, undoing it and still trying to mentally juggle everything that's happening at once. Fiddling with Dream's cool metal zipper, George tries to keep their lips connected whilst matching Dream's upward thrusts with his own little ruts against the lower of Dream's leg.

George reaches a hand down, and palms Dream through his boxers, burring his head in Dream's neck and latching onto a random spot. He continued with his hand's movements against Dream's crotch and sucks on his pulse for what seems like several minutes, marking Dream's neck with a large crimson spot.

Now that George's mouth is free, Dream doesn't hesitate to press theirs back together, limbs entangling as Dream leans back to lay almost flat on the bed, head and upper back propped up by some pillows.

George tries to squirm his way into Dream's pants, but Dream catches them at his boxers' entrance with his own hands.

"No," Is his explanation. "Your turn."

George sits up some, and Dream helps him remove his pants, that article joining all the others on the floor. Dream now hovers over George, only leaving room for George to back up and lie down, chest up on the cot.

Dream kisses from George's neck, all the way down to his stomach, giving marks just like George gave him on his neck, but this time, Dream gives his in several more places on George's body. He releases his lips tight lock on the left side of George's v-line and moves lower. He pulls down George's boxers and lets his hard hit his stomach. The boxers hit the ground.

"This is gonna feel so good," Dream whispers and kitten-licks at George's tip.

George whimpers and the airy feeling around his dick and pleads with his eyes for Dream to just get on with it.

"Ready?" Dream makes sure.

George nods rapidly.

Dream slides his whole entire mouth into George's cock, letting George bottom out into his mouth. George's eyes cross, and his hands fly to Dream's hair grabbing and pulling at the strands as Dream begins to move up and down, humming and groaning. His moans send vibrations up George's shaft and into his stomach, unholy curses tumbling out of George's mouth like spare beads.

Dream goes down once more and holds himself there.

George swallows and lets out a pitiful one syllable cry of pleasure, torture, and delight.

Dream goes up again, retrieves some air, and then goes back down, a low hum emitting from his throat.

"Mmm, oh, fuck, Dream," George tangles another hand in Dream's hair. He's going down for longer periods of time now. George can tell.

Dream goes back up to get his inhale, and then it's back down again.

George can't help but give a little thrust into his mouth. But then it feels too good... and he has to do it again... and again... and then Dream is up, taking his breath, eyes meeting George's, cheeks a deep pink.

Dream deep-throats him again and again, and soon George is shaking, back fully arched, crying Dream's name like his life depends on it.

With a mesmerizing whine of relief and pleasure, George cums into Dream's mouth, his dick twitching from such a strong build-up in such a short amount of time.

Dream pulls off George, short-of-breath. George watches as Dream swallows and then crawls up only to shamelessly discard his own boxers and climb back over George.

When he realizes what Dream's about to do, George's eyes widen. Dream places a knee on either side of George's shoulders, stroking his dick twice with his hand before angling himself at George's face.

"Please," Dream begs with his voice but challenges with his eyes. George graciously grips Dream's thighs and takes him into his mouth.

It starts out slow, simple bobbing from George and groans and curses from Dream. But then Dream begins thrusting, and within a matter of minutes, George is willingly no longer in control. Dream's hips begin to pound into George's mouth with little restraint. All George can do is let his throat get fucked.

Even though it's only been a little, and because Dream is already turned on by the... _previous experiences_ , Dream falls forward against the bed and over George's head, pure pleasure and need taking over. He grinds his hips into George's head and his dick into George's throat, not pulling out to give him a chance to breathe. He begins fast-paced little grinds, and when George chokes a bit, it only makes him harder. He holds it in a little longer but then pulls out, understanding that George needs to breathe.

"Too much?" Dream says, out of breath.

"No," George says with a hush, "Keep going."

Dream inserts himself in again and repeats his same movements, rolls of his hips. The pleasure is unexplainable as he bottoms out.

George tightens his throat, making Dream let out another pretty moan. His hands wrap around Dream's thighs as he tries to press his mouth even harder against Dream's stomach. He holds his breath.

"Shit," Dream thrusts again, holding George's head. It does nothing for friction since George's lips are already pressed to Dream's base, but Dream can't help the involuntary movements that seem to deliver him inexplicable pleasure.

"Fuckkkkkk, I'm gonna cum, George," Dream cries. "Shit, your mouth is so tight," He moans. "So good..."

George lets out another gurgled choke but flutters his eyes at Dream to show he's enjoying it. Dream can't stop moaning, and soon, he's right on the edge.

Knowing this, George pulls his lips away just to Dream's half-length and then slams back down again for the final time. With a groan and a whimper from Dream, he feels cum shoot down the back of his throat, coating his mouth and making Dream's knees go weak. George pulls away and swallows.

Getting off of the smaller boy, Dream lays beside him on the bed, sitting up, back against the wall.

"Fuck, George."

"Fuck," George repeats quietly.

Dream leans over to George and hovers in front of his face, waiting to see if George will reply. He does, kissing Dream and smiling into it.

Dream reaches over the side of the bed and picks up one of the unused rags. They don't need much cleaning, but he still does it anyway. George blushes, when Dream begins to wipe around his dick. Once finished, he moves onto his own, making sure they're clean enough to sleep. When he's done, he tosses the rag to somewhere else in the room and lies down, getting comfortable. George is still sitting up, lost in a daze.

"You should rest," Dream speaks.

George nods but hesitates, "You're staying, right?" A bit of worry creeps into George's head.

"Of course," Dream smiles at the brunette, "C'mere," he holds out his arms.

George smiles lightly and squirms his way under the covers. He scootches up to Dream, placing his head on Dream's chest, letting him cradle his exhausted body.

"I'm sorry you lost everything," George empathizes.

"Not everything; I have you," Dream turns into George, pulling him closer.

George burrows his face into Dream's neck, wanting to be as close as possible. He radiates body heat, and the warmth begins to make George quickly drowsy.

"I love you," George mutters quietly, an unseeable smile pressed onto his face as he nuzzles into Dream more.

"I love you too," comes Dream's response, voiding George's thoughts from all his fear.


End file.
